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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27799684">It’s Not What You Think</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epkkul/pseuds/Epkkul'>Epkkul</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>It’s Not What You Think [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>INWYT, Materic, Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Demigods are a thing, Different Dimensions, Fictional Italian Mafia, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love at First Sight, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Mafia Boss/Second In Command, Mild Sexual Content, Smut, Some Korean but I’m not fluent, Suggestive Themes, mafia, second in command, some violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:41:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27799684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epkkul/pseuds/Epkkul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“One day, they will know your name. Our name.”</p><p>All good love stories start with a prison break, right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mateo Lachlan/Eric Park, Mateo/Eric, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>It’s Not What You Think [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It’s Not What You Think</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i> “Prison changes you.” </i><br/>
Eric Park had heard that statement many times, as he served his sentence for taking a life. Albeit in self defence, murder was still murder. Perhaps it had been better in the eyes of the jury, to know that the killer turned himself over. A shivering Asian boy, barely nineteen, with his clothes splattered red, knocking on the police chief’s door to confess a crime he committed. The headlines spared no remorse, painting a picture of a troubled teen who’d dropped out of high school, taking his anger out on the loving uncle he lived with. But there was always more to the story, details the public fought over. They would continue to fight, but Eric lived behind bars, had been, for the past two years or so. A life sentence dulled in comparison to the other inmates, the terrors of prison hadn’t gone unnoticed. Eric was forced to quickly find ways to stand his own ground, bulk up, erase as much of that terrified teen he used to be. Prison showed no mercy, and begging for help was not an option.</p><p>	Fortunately, Eric had a saviour. A protector of sorts, a thirty-five year old man by the name of Lorenzo Vitale, who’d become his new cellmate just recently. Rumour was it that a certain mob boss ratted him out to the local authorities, who were more than happy to lock another boss up. Mafia boss or not, Eric liked Lorenzo. Other inmates did their best to survive, but Lorenzo seemed right at home—feared by the others—even. Where groping hands used to dare, now inmates cast their gazes away from Eric when he walked by. It seemed no one wanted to see just how patient a mafia boss could be.</p><p>	Today though, things were... different. Eric watched his cellmate pace the confines of their shared space, the darting gaze he would give every so often towards the door. Was he expecting someone? Visitation hours were limited, especially for high profile criminals such as Lorenzo himself. Limited hours didn’t matter to the youth, as Eric would have no visitors during his stay. The boy lost countless hours of sleep to this thought, knowing his parents were somewhere out there, unable to help. His brothers, living separately as well, could not have been any further out of reach. Family was a word Eric wished he understood, having had that definition ruined for him before his seventeenth birthday.</p><p>	“Eric, there’s something I need to tell you.” </p><p>	He turned his attention towards the mafia boss, watching him cast yet another anxious glance towards the cell door. Nothing easily fazed Lorenzo, and seeing his protector so worried only cast further anxieties into Eric’s already nervous thoughts. </p><p>	Lorenzo’s next words were lost to the sound of keys jangling outside their door. Expecting a guard, Eric turned to the door, and stopped short when he saw an unfamiliar face. A man in a suit, whose shadow seemed to loom over the two inmates. It might have just been his imagination, but Eric thought he saw the lights flickering, the longer the man stood there. </p><p>	“Don’t have all fuckin day, Lorenzo. I’ve no problem leaving your ass in there.” </p><p>	The man’s voice was just as Eric expected, booming, assertive, demanding. The exact type of voice Eric found himself shying away from, but there was something about the man that captured Eric’s attention. Could be the suit, perhaps. He did love a well dressed man. But clothes could only distract him so far, as the moment the man turned his attention towards him, Eric retreated, gripping the thin cotton sheets to stall his nerves. Despite the general intimidation in his gaze, he noticed a flicker of recognition as the man stepped closer. That recognition quickly turned to irritation, paired with another profane snap.</p><p>	“Vitale, I fuckin’ swear—”</p><p>	Fortunately for Eric, Lorenzo spoke up, coming to his defence to take the brunt of the stranger’s fury. It seemed as though there were unresolved matters at hand, things Eric knew he wouldn’t understand if either of these men decided to leave him in the dark. His cellmate’s deep voice matched the other male’s tone, an unrelenting, “He’s coming with, end of discussion.”</p><p>	 Just like that, Eric Park found himself swept up in a prison break, for Lorenzo had taken his hand, given a simple, “Trust me, Eric. Come,” and Eric had followed, deciding he was already in for a life behind bars, how much more trouble could he get in should he be caught once more? Was he terrified? Absolutely, down to the bone. But that man in a suit seemed to carry Eric’s destiny with him in a locked chest—a chest Eric hoped to unlock one day. </p><p>****</p><p>	The man, now known to Eric as Mateo Lachlan, would not cast him any further glances during their journey back. Stuffed into the back of an armoured van, Eric could only squeeze himself into a smaller ball, the adrenaline of the escape settling. Beside him sat Lorenzo, and close by was Mateo himself. Lorenzo had breezed over simple introductions, and what Eric had gathered from the rushed murmurs told him that their saviour was another mafia boss himself. Scary, Lorenzo had said. </p><p>	Eric couldn’t tell if he was joking, or if he meant it. </p><p>	The van jolted, causing Mateo to grunt, “Easy, Kyle.” </p><p>	That was funny, Eric used to know a Kyle. Dated him, in fact. A classic tale of highschool sweethearts, and a not-so-classic ending, which left a bitter taste in his mouth. He glanced up to the driver’s seat, wondering what the chances were that he would recognize the driver, and his eyes widened. <i>Fuck</i>, it really was him. </p><p>	How do you tell an ex lover you never meant to break up with them? How do you greet them, when the last time you met, neither of you knew what the future would hold? How, how, <i>how?</i></p><p>	Prison had turned an already anxious boy into even more of a nervous wreck, and seeing an ex lover did wonders with bringing up repressed trauma. Eric’s chest tightened, and he turned his gaze away, but he’d caught Kyle looking right at him, gaze softened. He’d smiled, but pressed a finger to his lips, and that action alone dragged the air out of Eric’s lungs. That initial hope turned into dread, as Eric wracked his whirlwind thoughts for a way to explain himself, his sudden disappearance, that murder charge, though he was sure Kyle would know all those details readily available to the public. </p><p>	The van continued on its way to their unknown destination, the confines of the prison left in the dust. Eric could hear Lorenzo’s murmurs, Mateo’s short responses, but that all faded into a drone as he tucked his chin into his arms. To say he was exhausted was an understatement, battling panic attacks and worries, and so much fear. Eric needed to sleep.</p><p>****</p><p>	His dreams were sweet, which was odd. Eric was accustomed to nightmares, but this one felt more like a memory, than a dream. </p><p>	School had just ended for the day, and Eric sat on the hood of his boyfriend’s car, watching as he went on and on about repairs, new additions he longed to get his hands on. Not one word was understood, but Eric didn’t mind, it was always nice to listen to someone he loved. Kyle was that someone, during their teen years together. Muscular, tall for his age, it’s no wonder Eric fell for him in the first place. That, and the fact that he’d stood up for him when those bullies came over. Never before had Eric felt like a protagonist in a typical written story. </p><p>	“—gotta work more to afford, and I—Hey, you listening?” Kyle’s grin could be heard when he spoke. </p><p>	“I...”</p><p>	Kyle chuckled, “That’s okay, it’s car talk, I’ll switch back to Eric talk, yeah?”</p><p>	He smiled, giving a flushed nod. “Eric talk, I like that.”</p><p>	Kyle moved close to him, leaning their foreheads together. “You know, I wish we could stay out longer. I have places I wanna show you—”</p><p>	“But we can’t, he’ll get mad if I’m late.” Eric hadn’t meant to interrupt, but the worry was evident in his tone.</p><p>	Kyle sighed, moving to press a kiss to his forehead, run his fingers through his curly hair. “I know, Eric,” he said. “I just wish we had more time, that’s all.” </p><p>	Eric leaned into his touch, silent, he wanted the same thing too. He always did, but a controlling uncle made that impossible. Just last week, Eric had been tardy, a consequence of extra schoolwork, and the belt had been brought out. Every time Kyle hugged him, he held back from hissing in pain, not wanting to worry him. Thankfully, those had healed up relatively well. </p><p>	“Let’s get you home, hm?” Kyle had pulled back, enough so that Eric could see his forlorn smile. Neither of those two wanted to part, but perhaps temporary loneliness would be far better than a permanent separation. </p><p>	Eric watched as the older boy moved to straighten his clothes, open the passenger’s side for him, and couldn’t resist calling out. <i>“Hyung—saranghaeyo.”</i> </p><p>	A little early for i love yous, but Eric saw the smile on Kyle’s face and knew it wasn’t so, to him. </p><p>	“I love you too, Eric.”</p><p>	Perhaps dreams weren’t so bad after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I made Materic with a close friend around 2 years ago, the day before my birthday, and they hold a very special place in my heart. I hope you come to enjoy them and their story as this goes on!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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